Lines of definition

 from Barton Fell.

Got out and back this morning just before it started to rain at exactly the time forecast. Otherwise preoccupied with Norfolk admin and wondering what makes us human and when we actually cease to exist (to what extent we exist anyway, and how, and all questions of self) in reality, or otherwise, if ever, interspersed with bread making in an effort to do something other ... bread turned out unsurprisingly heavy.

Made me think of Wordsworth's 'Leechgatherer' ....

... the fear that kills;
And hope that is unwilling to be fed;
Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills;
And mighty Poets in their misery dead.
—Perplexed, and longing to be comforted,
My question eagerly did I renew,
"How is it that you live, and what is it you do?"

... which was appropriate as it was supposed to be up here that he was inspired by the hare ... 'running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.

.... amongst my favourite, truly magical, lines.